


Short-Short-Long

by bcnedrah



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fields Medal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 05:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcnedrah/pseuds/bcnedrah
Summary: As Lydia Martin prepares to receive her Fields Medal, she can't help the waves of nervousness and memories that overcome her. Luckily there's someone in the room and can help her out.





	Short-Short-Long

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this before that crap-ola that was TW 6B. This is a future where 6B doesn't exist and everyone went to college and become happy, healthy, wealthy, and wise.

Lydia Martin knew it was ridiculous to be so nervous. She had earned this. She had led a team of male mathematicians and had figured out the final equation to a new algorithm that identified cyber security threats on a federal and commercial level. 

But as she looked over the audience filling in for the Fields Medal Symposium from the wings of the stage, she couldn’t help worrying her lips out of stage fright. This year’s audience was larger than in years past, primarily due to the President of the United States wishing to take part in the awards ceremony. The President, surrounded by an entourage of Security Service detail deeper into the back of the stage wings, was being briefed on the proceedings for the day by the stage manager. 

Lydia’s instructions by the stage manager had been simple enough - sit in her assigned seat, accept her medal and give a small speech, return to her seat and clap when prompted. Despite the relatively straightforward directions, she could feel the urge to scream lodged in the back of her throat. Not for a dead body - the banshee was certain no one is the audience was dying today - but out of frustration that she was someone who gave orders, not someone who followed them meekly. She knew it was built up over years of having to constantly prove that she was a woman in her field and she  _ did _ know what she was talking about. 

As the auditorium lights dimmed and the house lights grew brighter on stage, Lydia Martin threw her strawberry blonde hair back and donned the air of confidence she had crafted back in high school, making her way to her seat to the muted sound of academic applause. She sat with her feet crossed at the ankle, head tilted in mild interest as the Master of Ceremonies began. After a short welcome to the Field Medal recipients and their families, the MC turned the stage over to the President.

While the President droned on about the greatness of advancements in the sciences and math fields, Lydia turned her attention past the flashing lights of the press and the forms of the agents at the event. They were dressed in dark grey suits, spiral earpiece wires creeping up from underneath the necklines of their starched dress shirts, micro receivers built into their cuff links. Agents were stationed throughout various parts of the auditorium and upper balconies, scanning the audience for any possible threat. 

One agent, however, caught Lydia’s eye. He wasn’t scanning the audience, but staring straight ahead at the stage directly at her. Despite standing at a reverse parade rest with his hands linked before him, the agent’s body couldn’t seem to stay still. A proud, boyish smile would twitch at the ends of thin lips before the agent seemed to remember the decorum he was supposed to be displaying, highlighting the moles that dotted his cheeks as he tightened his jaw to force his mouth to obey. The forefinger of his outer hand tapped a rhythmic beat against his wrist. Warm amber eyes caught green. The shift of the agent’s shoulders may have looked like a sigh to anyone else, but Lydia instinctively knew he was redirecting her to pay attention to his hands. 

Long-short-long-short, short-short-long, long, short. Pause. Short-long, short-short-short, short-short-short. The perturbed look of the agent next to him confirmed it -  _ Cute ass. _

Lydia pressed her lips together to stifle a laugh. A long ago memory came to mind of a teenage boy at a school dance standing above her, demanding she get off her cute, little ass and dance. 

_ “Lydia, get up! Okay? You're going to dance with me. I don't care that you made out with my best friend for some weird power-thing. Lydia, I've had a crush on you since the third grade, and I know that somewhere inside that cold, lifeless exterior there's an actual human soul. And I'm also pretty sure that I'm the only one who knows how smart you really are. And that once you're done pretending being a nitwit, you'll eventually go off and write some insane mathematical theorem that wins you the Nobel Prize.” _

_ A slow smile made her way across her face as she considered the boy in front of her. “Fields Medal.” _

_ The boy raised an eyebrow in question. “What?” _

_ She held her hand out to be helped up out of her seat. “Nobel doesn’t have a prize for mathematics,” she explained, pulling him to the dance floor. “A Fields Medal’s the one I’ll be winning.” _

A rise in the President’s voice at the tail end of their speech clued Lydia back to reality, clapping in time with the rest of the audience. The President stepped back from the podium, shaking the MC’s hand as he stepped forward. As the applause died down and the MC began to describe the award divisions, Lydia found herself fingering the bracelet on her wrist, a simple silver chain with an anchor charm in the middle of the chain that was a one year anniversary present from her long-time and long-distance boyfriend, as she passively paid attention. .  

_ Stiles had driven up for the weekend and the two of them were walking around town near the campus. Lydia had been tugging him toward her favorite used bookstore when he came to a stop behind her. Turning around with a grin, she opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, but when she looked at him, he had a look somewhere between bemused and awestruck on his face. Bringing his hand up to cradle her cheek, he leaned forward to press a long, slow kiss on her lips. She gripped at his wrist to steady herself when the kiss made her weak in her knees.  _

_ When the need to breath became too much, Stiles rested his forehead against hers, his thumb stroking her cheek while he stared into her eyes. She licked her bottom lip, some part of her unsteady because she knew that he could see her, all of her. He was the one person to never shy away from her intelligence, was there for her as she came to terms with being banshee, had cataloged every one of her smiles and masks to his memory by sixteen - oh, he saw her. It was there in his gaze and he still looked at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world.   _

_ He kissed her forehead quickly before pulling her to sit on a nearby bench, pulling a long, thin box out of his jacket pocket. Fumbling with the box as he passed it to her, he explained, “So I totally was meaning to give this to you later tonight, you know while we had a dinner or something. With candlelight. But then you were there and you were laughing and all I could think was ‘My god, I love her’. And I knew I had to give this to you. Right now.” _

_ He waved his hand to the box, gesturing for her to open it. She started to take the top off the thin white box, but paused to stare at his suspiciously. “When I open this, it’s not going to have nuts and bolts in it, is it?” _

_ Stiles sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. “No, it will not have nuts and bolts in it. Now will you just open it!” _

_ Lydia leaned over, kissing the corner of Stiles’s mouth sweetly before turning her attention to the box. Setting it in her lap, she placed the top on the bench beside her and carefully pulled back the tissue paper, revealing a silver bracelet with a ship anchor charm linked in the middle of it.  She turned to look at her boyfriend with a small gasp. _

_ Biting his lip, Stiles picked up the bracelet, clasping it around her left wrist. He played with her fingers, admiring how his gift looked on her. “Lydia, in all ways, you are what anchors me. Through the Nemoton, being possessed by the Nogitsune, kidnapped by the Hunt, whatever Beacon Hills has thrown at us,” he fingered the charm before glancing at her, “you anchor me.” _

_ Lydia cupped both hands around his face, pulling him down to kiss him. Stiles wrapped his arms around her waist to drag her into his lap. Lydia pulled back with happy tears pooling the corners of her eyes. “I’ll never take it off.” _

“...and today we live in a world where we have learned that an attack can come not only physically, but as well in the cyber world.” Lydia perked up as the MC began to elaborate on her team’s contributions. “And when new ways of identifying these attacks can be applied to both the government and the mass populace, the International Mathematical Union* would like to extend its deepest gratitude to MIT’s research team for finding the newest solution. The team that has worked to protect our personal and financial safety consists of Head Mathematician, Dr. Lydia Martin, and her team…”

The MC’s voice faded from Lydia’s ears as she stood. Off to the side of the MC’s podium, the President stood waiting next to a table of medals housed in velvet lined cases. One of which was hers. Feeling a new wave of panic crest over her, she found herself glancing back at the agent in the back who couldn’t take his eyes off of her. His finger was still tapping at his wrist in Morse code. Two short taps. _ I _ . Short-long-short-short, long-long-long, short-short-short-long, short.  _ Love _ . Long-short-long-long, long-long-long, short-short-long.  _ You _ .

Taking a deep breath, Lydia steeled herself and stepped forward to accept her medal from the President with a handshake, her team behind her.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr at bcnedrah.tumblr.com. Expect to see a mix of Shadowhunters, Teen Wolf, Doctor Who, Sense8, Lucifer, and whatever current obsession I have. :D


End file.
